Cut

Lots of things happened.

Recco, the long-feathered ara
from across the street
finally showed his face
and stuck one bewildered eye
through the gate;

an alligator was spotted
in the East End late at night
as she was taking a stroll
down a back-alley obliviously,
then promptly returned home;

the northern constellations
rotated as they had to,
the shooting stars shower
never failed to come and go,
numerous accidents were reported
on the morning radio.

But low on my left calf
I still wear two small scars
(half-punishment,
half-prize)
from where the pedal
of the bike I pushed for you
cut into the flesh
weeks ago.